


Worth it

by Liezel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance, Takes place during Episode 9, Viktor spelled with a k
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liezel/pseuds/Liezel
Summary: Viktor went back to Japan to take care of Makkachin. She turns out to be okay but Yuuri... doesn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Cinerari, who beta'd most of this thing! I'm so sorry, I have no patience and I posted this without waiting for your whole feedback. If you do have time to look at it, I'll edit this of course.
> 
> I wrote this after seeing episode 8 and hum, well I'm a slow writer. But it's okay, I knew it was gonna end up canon divergent anyway.
> 
> I do insist on warning you: there is explicit homophobia and non-graphic homophobic violence in this. I understand this is something serious and hurtful and wrong, so don't read if it hits too close to home. I didn't want this to be too sad/angsty so maybe it was too light in the end, I don't know. I hope nobody takes offense.
> 
> Also, English isn't my first language so bear with me.
> 
> Alright, for those who are gonna read this: have a good read!

As usual, all of Yuuri’s family and close friends were gathered in the Katsukis’ living room to watch their youngest perform in Moscow. And that was really saying something, considering it was four in the morning.

JJ, Chris and Yura were now facing the camera with their respective medals in hand, displaying various levels of satisfaction ranging from overly confident to merely smug – which, in Yura’s case, related very intimately with the only emotion he ever considered showing the world, namely annoyance.

That meant there was one particular skater who was missing.

Viktor could feel Minako’s gaze burning a hole in the side of his head, like she was expecting a negative reaction from him and getting ready to scold him. He knew because he also knew the coach he was should have been disappointed. After all, Yuuri had made mistakes that had cost him the podium. But all Viktor could think was that Yuuri had been _beautiful_ , the fight in him still burning fiercely even though he’d failed his first combo. Viktor had seen the look on Yuuri’s face, the calm determination, the will to go through with his program and show the world how amazing he was, with all his flaws and his traitorous nerves. He’d remained graceful in his proclamation of love to the face of the world, heartbreakingly magnificent in his every moves and jumps, passed or failed.

How could anyone be disappointed by that?

Viktor smiled proudly. “He’s in.”

Minako nodded with the same smile. “He made it!”

The room exploded in cheers, all Yuuri’s most faithful supporters enchanted by what they had witnessed. They could feel it like Viktor did, the change in Yuuri, his potential unlocked. Yuuri could do it. Viktor laughed and cheered with all of them and the sake had the taste of celebration.

It took a while for someone to notice something was off. It was Yuko who pointed it out first. “Shouldn’t Yuuri and Yurio’s interviews already have taken place by now?”

Her tone was light, like it was a random thought rather than a concerning one, and almost everybody missed it. But Viktor’s gaze turned back on the screen and zeroed in on Yakov in the background, behind JJ and his girlfriend and the swarm of reporters surrounding them. Yakov was on the phone and looked worried. His former coach’s eyes flickered involuntarily right to Viktor through the screen and despite the distance, Viktor felt that glance pierce right through him. An uneasy feeling that he couldn’t voice settled in his gut.

The seventeenth call to Yura’s phone finally got through. The teenager sounded cautious and worried rather than outraged at the harassment, and Viktor felt his blood run cold. “What happened?”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

For once, the aftermath of Yuuri's performance did not taste anything like victory, and it was not just due to his not being on the podium for the first time that season. Actually, he doubted he could care less about that. It stung a little, but the point was that he was advancing.

Yuuri felt empty and cold without Viktor fussing around, embarrassing him with _very_ public displays of affection, drawing all the attention to himself with very little effort while insisting Yuuri should be under the spotlight. Yuuri was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he missed all those antics he spent so much time complaining about, to a point where he physically ached for it. They were what made up his and Viktor’s universe, countless subtle attentions Viktor had only for him. They were _his_.

Although, maybe he had gone a little overboard with all the hugging back there, but– 

“Don't touch me.”

The harsh voice snapped him back to reality. Yuuri glanced around, a bit lost since he had been wandering aimlessly while waiting for his interview. He must have walked right into the guy without thinking because he found himself stumbling back.

The man in front of him was not that much taller than Yuuri, but his broad shoulders made him look huge. His fists curled up at his side, he glared down at Yuuri with piercing stormy eyes in a way that made the skater recoil instinctively. The stranger was eyeing his costume with a sour expression plastered on his heavy features. All of a sudden, Yuuri was painfully aware of how thin and shiny the fabric he was wearing was.

“Sorry,” Yuuri stammered.

He looked past the man to resume his strolling, but the stranger sidestepped to stand deliberately in his way. The young skater felt a shiver run down his spine. It looked like his apology was not going to be enough.

“You better be. I don't want you contaminating me, you piece of shit.” The man was struggling a little with his English, but even if the words hadn’t been clear enough, the underlying threat in his grumble of a tone would have carried his meaning easily.

“Er... sorry?” the young skater repeated, confused by the blatant hostility.

What was this guy on about? The exhaustion made it hard to process how he could have made the guy so angry. Surely their earlier collision could not have hurt him that bad, could it?

His train of thought abruptly derailed when his shoulder was shoved back and his back slammed against the wall hard enough to disorient him for a second. He opened his mouth to protest only to have the wind knocked out of him by a punch thrown viciously into his solar plexus.

“We don't want your fucking kind here. You better leave real quick, cunt.”

He was vaguely aware that his legs were giving way under him, but it didn't matter anymore when a fist collided with his jaw. Sharp pain blurred his vision until his surroundings were just smudges of pale colours. The back of his head crashing into the wall behind him only made it worse.

“You got that, faggot?”

He wanted to answer, he honestly did, anything to stop this. But his lungs were still unable to gather oxygen properly, and Yuuri got the sense that the other man was probably not interested anyway.

The punches kept coming.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

“ _Suka_ , Viktor's gonna kill me. Yuuri, get up!”

He was not unconscious. Not completely. Was he?

“Come on, you fucking moron, open your eyes!”

Yurio's English was usually nearly flawless, but this time a thick Russian accent laced his syllables. Yuuri found that deeply unsettling.

A grunt crawled its way out of his burning throat. The fact that his eyes were closed dawned on him, which could have explained why he was not seeing anything. It was surprisingly difficult to crack them open, and then he regretted it instantly because of the painfully blinding light that assaulted him. As awareness returned suspiciously slowly to him, his brain started to process the fact that his body was aching all over and that he was lying on the icy floor rather than standing.

That was weird.

He tried to get up but a spike of pain in his chest quickly stopped him.

“Yuuri, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you...” His voice sounded distant and hoarse.

“What happened?”

What had happened, indeed? The memories made their way reluctantly through the fog clouding his brain, but the emotional distress got there first. Fear and shame hit him like a ton of brick – or a fist to his gut – and tears began to fill his eyes.

“Okay, never mind. I got it,” Yurio muttered.

Had Yuuri had the courage to lift his eyes and face Yurio, he would have seen the same faint worry he detected in his voice written on his features.

“Can you sit up?”

“Ah...”

Before he could come up with an answer, strong arms slithered around him to pull him gently but firmly upwards, and Yuuri was thankful for that because he did not think his muscles would have been able to do it on their own.

“Fuck, you're heavy,” Yurio mumbled without heat.

It took a solid minute for the world to stop spinning around him, but the throbbing in the back of his head lingered. His arm weighed a thousand pounds as he buried his face in his palms. He rested his head against the wall carefully, eyes closed again.

Yurio was fuming beside him, his hands still on Yuuri’s shoulder like he didn't trust him to remain upright on his own. “How bad did he hurt you?”

“I... I don't know. I think I can walk.” His voice came out a bit louder than before, even though it sounded strangely shrill and weak. Foreign to his own ears.

“Any broken bones? No, scratch that, you would be puking by now.”

“Don't talk about puking,” Yuuri mumbled.

“Shut up. Alright, up you go. C'mon.”

While they were walking, Yurio pulled out his phone and started speaking quick angry Russian words that Yuuri couldn't make sense of. The blond skater never released his hold onto him. He guided him carefully through the hallways of the rink towards a side exit, avoiding the crowd expertly.

The cold wind outside revived Yuuri a bit. Breathing was still tedious to say the least but his senses started coming back to him gradually, which made the reality of what had just happened that much harder to ignore. Thankfully, exertion rid him of his capacity to feel too strongly about it.

He had been beaten. By a homophobic man in a foreign country that did not care. Chances were that nobody would look too much into it, the hateful character of the assault clearly not very high in the list of their preoccupations here. The bitter taste of injustice flooded his mouth. He felt the nausea coming back with a vengeance.

“Where are we going?” he managed.

“To your hotel. And then to the airport. You need to get out of here.”

“But... The interviews...”

Yurio stopped dead in his tracks. Since he was still firmly holding Yuuri's arm, the latter felt himself spin abruptly on his heels, making his stomach churn and aggravating the migraine that was definitely coming. Narrowed aquamarine eyes trapped his own.

“This is serious, you idiot,” Yurio snapped, his jaw set. “Yakov can handle the stupid press for all I fucking care, and I don't think you'll want to appear on international television right now. You look like shit. You're barely walking as it is. Start worrying about what you need instead of what people expect from you, for fuck's sake.”

Yuuri found himself nodding in stunned agreement. The teenager was right. Maybe he should get some sleep before thinking of traveling hundreds of kilometres in a tight space, but the idea of getting out of here in whatever shape he was in sounded too appealing.

Going home. To his family. To Viktor.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The trip to the hotel was surprisingly short, lost as Yuuri was in his own grey little world. Yurio had to call his name three times before he finally moved himself out of the cab and into their hotel. Yakov had somehow beaten them there and was waiting in Yuuri's room with a stern looking man who turned out to be their doctor.

The adrenaline had flushed out of Yuuri's system during the ride, and without it sustaining him, his whole body went limp. He barely reacted to the doctor inspecting every inch of his aching flesh. He simply turned this way and that as instructed and whimpered now and then when the doctor poked at the most sensitive areas.

As it turned out, there were quite a few of those.

_I’m a mess…_

“It doesn't look like a concussion,” the doctor finally concluded, “but I can't rule it out with absolute certainty. You also have some bruised ribs, none of which appear to be broken as far as I can tell. I'd advise against travelling, but I'm guessing you won't listen to me.”

Sports doctors were used to being ignored. Yuuri had little remorse to do so right now.

“No, I have to get back.” Yuuri shook his head stubbornly before realizing his mistake. He closed his eyes uselessly until the bile receded to the back of his throat.

“I'll go with him.”

Yuuri wasn't sure he had heard that right, as it had been barely more than a mutter. However, Yakov's scandalised roar removed all doubts.

"What!?"

"Viktor will train me for a few days. He owes me that much, that bastard."

Then they switched to Russian, or maybe not and Yuuri was just too worn out to make out English words anymore. The argument sounded heated, but it didn't seem like Yurio was backing down, much to his coach’s obvious frustration. A warm wave of relief spread through Yuuri’s chest at the thought that he would not be making the trip on his own.

The doctor departed at some point after he gave some advice to Yurio on how to handle his patient on the flight. That left Yuuri alone with a scowling Yakov who looked ready to blame his pupil's obstinacy on Yuuri, and Yurio, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze.

Finally, Yakov gave up with a growl.

“Okay, let's see if we can make you two idiots board tonight. Yura, have you called Vitya yet?”

“No but he has. _Sixteen times_ , you’ve got to be kidding me…” he muttered. “I'll do it now. You, start packing.”

That last part was intended for Yuuri, who opened his eyes and started cautiously moving his battered body to the edge of the bed. It seemed fine, so he pushed himself carefully to his feet. 

“And go shower,” Yurio added with a snort. “I'm not spending nine hours on a plane with a piglet smelling like the inside of a stable.”

With that, he went outside to place the call.

Speaking of which, where was Yuuri's phone? Odds were his attacker had smashed it at some point. An icy hand gripped his gut at the thought of being cut off from Viktor. Viktor who, along with his family and friends, couldn't have missed his and Yurio’s absence at the after-performance interviews. Had they tried to reach him yet? Were they worried? He wanted to go after Yurio and tell him to deliver the news carefully, but he wasn't sure he had it in him to do that and then shower. So he decided to trust the younger skater’s instincts on this one.

Yakov sighed before getting out of the room as well.

“I don't know if he's worth all this, son.”

The door closed on the coach before Yuuri could muster a reply but his words continued to ring in the silence that drew over the room. He shook himself from his trance with an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The bathroom was comfortingly small, at least compared to that monstrous suite Viktor had picked for them, and he sighed in relief. Finally, some peace.

But then he laid his eyes on his reflection in the mirror. There was a few seconds during which his brain couldn't process what his eyes were seeing.

Was that ravaged face really _his_?

To say that he looked terrible would have been the understatement of the year. Unsurprisingly, he sported a black eye that would probably spread overnight. His lip was split in the middle, his jaw was badly bruised, there were traces of blood he didn't remember spilling under his nose and on his chin, and he didn't even want to look at his rib cage. The damage was mostly located on the left side of his face though, so maybe if he managed to cover it with his hoody, he could avoid conspicuous looks at the airport. His fingers poked at his frighteningly pale cheek tentatively, as if to connect what he was seeing with what he was feeling, only to make him wince and then moan because he had just instinctively contracted a couple of sore muscles that wanted to be left alone.

His mind was so numb it quickly gave up on caring about his looks. With a sigh, he undressed himself lazily and entered the shower.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There were just _so many people_.

It was one in the morning and yet it felt like all of Moscow had suddenly given in to an irresistible urge to get on a plane to wherever. The airport was packed with people yelling in various languages, running frantically or stopping in the middle of the way, and if it hadn't been for Yurio watching Yuuri’s step more carefully than he was willing to let on, the older skater would have stumbled more than once. At this point, Yuuri’s clothes were wearing him rather than the other way around.

At last, they found a pair of seats to wait for their boarding time, which was due within the next twenty minutes.

“People here are fucked up.” Yurio spoke quietly after a while, in a manner that sounded dangerously close to an apology. “I'd thought they'd leave you alone, 'cause of you being foreign and all.”

Yuuri hummed non-commitally. That possibility had never even occurred to him, although maybe that should have been obvious.

“Listen, I... I'm sorry. I should've kept a closer eye on you. Should've guessed you'd get in trouble with that angelic face of yours.”

Yurio tried to sound annoyed but the guilt lingering in his gaze gave it all away. Yuuri felt a wave of gratitude towards the younger skater, but he knew Yurio would have none of that.

"It’s okay. Let’s call it payback for me stealing Viktor away from you, shall we?" he sighed instead.

Yurio grunted in agreement. “But you can’t listen to them, you hear me? They’re assholes. They don’t know anything.”

“I know.” He locked eyes with the teenager, hoping he could convey the gratitude he was feeling. “I know. Thank you.” And not just for his words, but Yuuri was sure he knew that.

Yurio nodded, looking somewhat satisfied as he relaxed back in his seat.

“You did amazing, by the way. During your program, I mean. I could hardly take my eyes off of you.”

The blond huffed, unable to hide the slight pleased blush on his cheeks.

“Don’t say shit like that” he mumbled, “or Viktor’s gonna have to kill me twice.”

Which was probably Yurio for “thank you (twat).” Yuuri suppressed a chuckle for the sake of his ribs; however, he caught the other sliding him covert glances every once in a while, like he was on the verge of asking a question he wasn't sure he wanted an answer to. In the end, his curiosity got the better of him, though.

“Is it… serious between you two? Or is it just for show? That sure would be like Viktor, always desperate to _surprise_ his audience.” That last part made Yurio’s eyes roll in their orbit.

That gave Yuuri pause. Was it? It would have been a crude lie to say he didn't wonder the exact same thing. And if he was being honest, that very conundrum was responsible for quite a number of sleepless nights too.

“Looks like people fell for it, didn’t they?” And after a brief moment of hesitation, he added softly, “I know I did.”

It was rather unexpected that Yurio, of all people, would be the first one he confessed this to. The teenager’s answer surprised him before he could to come to regret it.

“Don’t let that fucker fool you. He’s deceptively more careful of those around him than you’d think and he is definitely not so cold that he would toy with someone like that. Well, not for that long anyway.”

Yuuri simply nodded, not trusting his own voice. A comfortable silence settled between them.

Finally, the blond gently nudged his shoulder and waved for him to grab his bag and follow him. Yuuri had to remove the hoody when they passed security, but then he was well past the point of caring about the curious stares his bruised face earned him.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Yuuri had finally settled down into a state of apparent coma, his body limp and his eyes closed, but Yurio wasn't buying it. There was no way in hell that clingy idiot was sleeping right now.

A short while after take-off, Yuuri's head had bumped into his shoulder, as he had slid from his seat right into Yurio’s personal space. Now Yuuri was actually _hugging_ him, one arm wrapped around his like a snake and the other abandoned across his abdomen. Yurio had half a mind to call him out on that but he couldn't bring himself to do it. There was obviously no stopping the hug monster now, and maybe that way he could distance himself from the waking world and finally get some rest.

Yurio grunted quietly. He did _not_ care.

"Fuck, you're as bad as he is," he muttered under his breath.

A low but definitely awake hum answered him, but Yuuri still didn't budge and, well, neither did Yurio.

The mention of Viktor brought his earlier question back to his mind. What was going on between him and Yuuri? He had never seen Viktor like that with anyone, looking disgustingly smitten while acting ridiculously protective. And even someone with half a brain could see the difference in Yuuri after months spent together. The man craving for Viktor’s touch was nothing like the shy fragile thing that couldn't even lock eyes with Viktor back when they first met. Now they were both all lingering touches and overly affectionate hugs and loving stares, and _ugh_.

And then there was the very public kiss they had shared in China while lying on the ice, which in hindsight might not have been as much of a publicity stunt as he initially had thought it was.

There was definitely something between them, Yurio decided. It was right there for everyone to see. Maybe Viktor wasn't so hollow after all. Maybe he had just been waiting for the right person and when they finally came along he gave them his all, a hundred percent. However, the fucker obviously had never clarified this with Yuuri, even after the latter’s profession of love on – again – live television. It made Yurio wonder if he had actually grasped the meaning of that interview.

Were they both completely unable to communicate without cameras flashing at them?

Yurio rolled his eyes in irritation. Better to leave those two idiots figure it out for themselves.

The hours ticked by lazily, especially since it quickly became obvious that Yuuri wasn't letting go of him anytime soon. So Yurio settled for watching all the mediocre selection of films the flight had to offer. He dozed off in the middle of the second one.

Yuuri only released him when their imminent arrival was announced on speaker, at which point Yurio had to wait for some feeling to come back in his left arm.

“Ah… sorry,” Yuuri managed around a yawn.

“’S’okay,” Yurio croaked.

As expected, Yuuri didn't look like he had gotten any sleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The cranky teenager and the exhausted man were among the last ones to emerge from the plane. Yurio yawned all the way to the terminal.

It was a muffled but very recognizable bark that made Yuuri look up from his feet. He turned his head and there was _Makkachin_ , standing on her hind legs and her front paws sliding happily on the thin sheet of glass separating them. And behind her...

Viktor's sky-like gaze found his and his breath hitched in his throat.

He would have run alongside Viktor if he could have but his movements were sluggish at best, a not so subtle reminder that maybe walking was good enough for now.

Viktor's stare hadn't left him when he finally reached the automated door, his brow pinched worriedly over searching eyes, scanning his face. Yuuri stood frozen in the doorway, suddenly unable to move. When Viktor picked up on that, he closed the remaining distance with a look of uncertainty on his face, like he was afraid to break something very precious. His turquoise eyes went wide when he pulled the mask down to reveal the full extent of the damages to Yuuri’s face.

And that did it. The numbness disappeared instantly, the dam broke, and everything came rushing back all at once. An ugly sob ripped itself out of his throat, choking him, sending new waves of pain throughout his body. Viktor’s arms pulled him into a fierce embrace before he collapsed altogether.

Normally, he would have tried to muffle the sound of his cries with his hands but his fingers were clinging to Viktor’s shirt with a death grip.

“I’m here. It’s okay,” Viktor whispered soothingly. “Let it all out.”

Yurio stood back, apparently fumbling with his phone like he didn’t care but he did throw the occasional worried glance Yuuri’s way and Viktor felt immensely grateful for Yurio’s presence during the flight.

The trembling form of Yuuri against him gradually calmed down as Viktor whispered quiet encouragements and comforting words against his hair, stroking his back protectively.

“Fucking faggots,” an unknown voice mumbled behind them.

Yuuri’s body reacted on his own. He wasn't even aware he was moving until someone – Yurio, probably – stopped him with a hand firmly clasped around his bicep. He was shaking hard, his blood boiling in his veins as he imagined how _good_ it would feel to thrust his knuckles into that jackass' face. His ears were ringing with white noise, his outraged mind desperate to grab some control back on the sickening weakness he felt earlier.

“Don't,” Yurio spoke quietly from behind.

“I'm not about to let yet _another one_...” Yuuri’s voice was a vicious growl he didn't immediately recognize as his own.

“I know. But don't. You have to let it go. Fuck ups, remember?”

Viktor gasped faintly in understanding, and Yuuri felt something plummet in his gut. Yurio mustn't have told him the specifics of the aggression after all, but seeing the ever-so-quiet Yuuri react so violently did the trick.

“Come on, he's right. He’s not worth it.”

The soft sound of Viktor's worried voice finally grounded him in the reality of what he had just been about to do. Fury left him as fast as it had crashed his mind, only to give way to an extreme exhaustion the like of which he had no recollection of having ever felt before. How long had it been since he had last slept? It felt like centuries.

“The hell you looking at, dipshit?” Yurio barked as the other one lingered in their way.

The guy spat at his feet before turning away.

Yuuri pulled his hood back up to cover his face once again. He felt Viktor’s hand brush shyly against his, and he squeezed it into his own without thinking.

“Let’s go home.”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The onsen was buzzing with life when the cab dropped the three of them off. The sky had grown dark on them in the meantime. Viktor waited for Yuuri to move before following him inside, but it seemed like the younger man was glued to the spot. He squeezed his shoulders encouragingly.

“I… I can’t face them.”

Viktor gestured for Yurio to go ahead without them. The teenager obliged, frowning out of principle but nodding in understanding nonetheless.

“It’s just for a minute,” Viktor encouraged him. “They won’t keep you for long, they just want to know you’re okay.”

“Well, I’m not.”

There was no hint of crying in his voice, just a plain and tired truth.

“I’m the one who should be ashamed, you know.”

Deep brown eyes flashed to Viktor’s in confusion. “What? Why?”

“Well, I’m the one who got you in that situation, aren’t I?”

For some reason, that seemed to shake Yuuri out of his anxious trance. The suspicious stare Yuuri threw him told Viktor his light tone hadn't fooled him. Dark eyes glared at him with indignation, and Viktor couldn't yet process what brought this scandalized look on.

Next thing he knew, he was yanked forwards and hauled into the onsen.

The sight of Yuuri caused a bit of a commotion, as his family and friends took in the bruises and his pale face. They knew not to intrude on their youngest when he was feeling vulnerable, so instead of smothering him with comforting hugs and kisses, they patted his shoulders and carefully asked how he was feeling from a reasonable distance – not too close that he would feel invaded but not too far away either.

The smile on Yuuri’s lips was a bit weak and very tired, but gosh he was beautiful. Viktor knew full well how he must be feeling, but in spite of everything, he was still standing, still facing the world instead of hiding, and somehow he had enough strength left in him to reassure everyone around him. Apart from his break down at the airport, he was being so brave, and Viktor felt himself fall a little deeper in love with him.

“I’m fine. Yurio’s doctor checked me out, everything’s fine. I just… need to sleep.”

His mom indulged herself by kissing his forehead before moving out of their way and throwing Viktor a pointed look.

He nodded. Of course he wasn't going to let Yuuri out of his sight. He was holding the younger close to him and Yuuri was hugging him back around his waist. Viktor felt truly awed that his touch was the one Yuuri needed when he couldn't stand any other’s. Somehow, Viktor had earned a permanent right and duty to hold him and hug him and smother him no matter the moment or the mood. Not once had he shied away from him since his return. In fact, they had almost never stopped touching one another.

And that was so precious.

“Well I’ll take the piglet’s room, since you two are probably sharing Viktor’s by now,” Yurio called out from the living room.

Yuuri flushed, and Viktor smiled.

The younger skater stumbled on the first step of the stairs leading to their rooms, which Viktor took it as his cue to show yet another embarrassing display of affection. Before his protégé could protest, he had him swooped up in his arms and was carrying him to the first floor.

Yuuri didn't fight him as much as he would have thought. In fact, there was only a small tap on his shoulder before he rested his head on his collarbone.

“You’re impossible,” Yuuri muttered.

“Yes, but you love it.”

A content sigh was all Viktor's heart needed to flutter in his chest once more.

“So my room then?” he asked with a playful grin.

He wasn't expecting Yuuri to lift his head, look him straight in the eye and take his breath away from him by answering without stuttering – but still blushing a lovely shade of red, thank God. “Yeah. Your room.”

Viktor had every intention to put Yuuri down on his bed very carefully, like he was handling the most precious thing in the world – which he was – and leave him to change into one of Vitor's night shirts. That went out the window when Yuuri grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down once more, effectively trapping Viktor in a forceful hug. Viktor chuckled. “ _Moy solnyshko_ is so greedy,” he cooed against Yuuri's hair.

He moved as much as the octopus-like embrace allowed him so that Yuuri would be atop him rather than supporting his weight with his bruised ribs. 

Yuuri grumbled incoherently, his face buried in the crook of Viktor’s neck.

“You can’t go to sleep with your clothes on,” Viktor whispered tenderly.

“I know,” came the muffled response. “Just a minute.”

Viktor smiled fondly. How could he resist him? He let his fingers tread through Yuuri’s messy bangs, his heart swelling in adoration.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Yuuri swam slowly back to consciousness, feeling like the mattress was swallowing him whole. Well, the mattress and Viktor’s arms, which were loosely wrapped around him. In the silence drawn over the onsen, Viktor’s steady heartbeat was all Yuuri could hear. Yuuri felt more safe and cherished than he ever had before.

He smiled drowsily and went right back to sleep.

Next time he woke up, the reassuring warmth against him was still here, even though the light filtering through the closed curtains was bright. Viktor didn't usually stay in bed this long.

“Vitya?” Yuuri called him that sometimes. At first it had come out by accident and then the softness in those ocean eyes had been so heart-warming that he had done it again at various occasions.

Viktor moved under him, his hands coming to life to trace lazy circles on his back. Yuuri lifted his head to meet those dizzyingly blue eyes and felt the familiar hitch in his throat as well as the stutter of his heartbeat. At the very beginning, he’d thought that it was just shyness that would go away on its own when they’d grow to know each other better, but as it turned out, it had only gotten worse.

However, they were often in public or in the middle of practice, so those fleeting and traitorous emotions were always quickly chased away. Not now, though. For once, they were completely alone, with nothing and no one to attend to, and the proximity was intoxicating. When their gazes met and locked, Yuuri was on the front row to witness his own shock reflected on Viktor’s face, easily melting into a loving expression.

Viktor slowly readjusted himself so that they were fully facing each other and Yuuri’s arm slithered on its own around Viktor’s waist, the younger skater unable to think or speak properly. They never broke eye contact. Viktor’s soft scent was everywhere.

His silver bangs were messy and he still looked a bit ragged with sleep but Yuuri would be damned if he could find a more beautiful sight than this one.

“Hi,” Viktor croaked with a gentle smile.

Yuuri felt himself break into an irrepressible grin. “Hello you.”

Viktor’s slender fingers drifted lightly over his bruised jaw, tender gaze tinged with worry. Yuuri was sure his heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest.

“How are you feeling?” Viktor whispered.

“It’s not that bad. Nothing’s broken or anything.”

“I know that.”

There was an unspoken question in that statement that his bright eyes were almost shouting.

“I’m okay, Vitya. Really. I just needed the rest and a good cry.”

The uncertainty lingered for a moment but Viktor accepted his answer with a nod. Yuuri’s hand was tracing lazy circles on the small of Viktor’s back, and he felt the other man relax under his touch.

His next words escaped him and made him blush. “And most of all, I just needed to see you.” The pink hue on Viktor’s cheeks nearly made Yuuri’s chest explode.

His eyelids fluttered shut. Without thinking, he closed in the distance and brushed his lips against Viktor’s.

He didn’t realize what he had just done until, a split second later, Viktor’s arms pulled Yuuri against his toned chest and began kissing him back. At which point Yuuri’s brain shut down altogether.

The kiss was slow and gentle. Their lips moved awkwardly against each other at first and then they found their rhythm. There was no rush, no desperation, just a quiet joy to finally be able to express long repressed feelings. Viktor’s warmth engulfed him completely, his arms tightened around his frame, content sighs escaped him at regular intervals.

Viktor tasted like heaven.

When they broke apart, they were a blushing mess with silly smiles and shining eyes.

“You don’t usually sleep in,” was all that Yuuri could muster through his clouded mind.

A happy hum answered him before a more coherent reply came out.

“Thought I’d make an exception.” And after a moment, he added, “I didn’t want to leave you alone again.”

Yuuri’s hugged Viktor tighter and buried his face in the crook of Viktor’s neck, breathing in his scent. Viktor responded by squeezing him carefully, his fingers treading through his hair.

When, after a while, Viktor noticed Yuuri wasn't releasing his grip, he whispered gently, “Hey, what’s that about?”

“You didn’t leave me alone, I sent you away.”

“And look how that turned out.”

There was no bite in Viktor’s low voice, just concern and guilt that melted Yuuri’s heart. Yuuri propped himself on one elbow to look at Viktor, ignoring the sharp pain in his rib cage. He saw Viktor wince at the clear sight of the bruises that had undoubtedly spread while Yuuri was sleeping.

Viktor didn’t look like he was letting this go.

“I meant what I said yesterday,” he sighed. “I’m the reason why you… got in trouble.”

Yuuri climbed on top of Viktor, his arms around Viktor’s face. Yuuri felt himself blush a little but he kept his gaze steadily riveted to Viktor’s. Yuuri wasn't usually this blunt in words or actions, he guessed he had the lingering anger to thank for that. The startled look on Viktor’s face was rather satisfying.

There was no way in hell he was letting Viktor think this was his fault. There were words bubbling up his throat, words long overdue that needed out, and he let them. His voice was firmer than he had hoped.

“I’m not sorry, and this is not on you. Russia doesn’t own all the assholes in the world, this could have happened anywhere, and I would send you right back to Japan all over again even knowing what was gonna happen.

“He did not break me. I’m not weak. You said so yourself, forever ago.” At his words, Viktor’s eyes slowly lightened up, filled with something akin to cautious hope. But Yuuri’s face remained serious, as his gaze pinned the other man down with an intensity that used to appear only on the ice. “I’m gonna go to that Grand Prix and win gold and show to that jerk as well as the rest of the world that they can’t stop me. That it’ll take more than a few punches to stop me from loving you. So if you’re not on board or anything, you better let me know right now.”

His voice went up a little at the end. He had let on more than he had anticipated, his words had tumbled on his lips on their own accord. His fists were clenched in the sheets under Viktor’s head, but he took no notice of the nails biting the skin of his palms. He was on the brink of shattering, exposing his heart like that, and it should have been terrifying. Oddly enough though, it wasn’t. This was Viktor. This was _his_ Viktor. Yuuri trusted him absolutely and he just knew that given Yuuri’s heart, he would protect it at all cost.

Viktor was a man of actions and touches, not words, so it was only natural that his first response came in the form of an embrace that had Yuuri carefully roll sideways on the mattress. Soon he was buried under Viktor’s body, his slender fingers cupping Yuuri’s face, Viktor’s lips ghosting over Yuuri’s. Viktor’s eyes were shining suspiciously bright.

“How could I ever be worthy of you, my Yuuri?” He whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so proud of you, and I’m willing to be part of anything that involves you, _solnyshko_. I’m so sorry I made you doubt that.”

“Then… quit the innocent flirting.” Yuuri pouted, feeling his anger dissolve and his overwhelmed mind surrender.

Viktor’s brow arched at that, he couldn’t help but grin teasingly.

“So you want the dirty flirting then?”

Gosh, that would have flustered him so thoroughly on any other occasion. As it were, Yuuri only felt a need to press on. He held Viktor’s icy-blue gaze, shivering all over. He was deeply aware of the heat creeping on his cheeks, and amazed that he was actually able to form coherent words.

“What I want is you. I want you, and I want you all to myself. Tell the world they’re right to think I stole you away. Do _you_ want me?”

“More than anything,” Viktor murmured. “I should’ve said so a long time ago. I love you, Yuuri.”

The tenderness in those azure eyes was infinite, impossible to describe with mere words. Yuuri's heart paused, just for a second, along with the whole universe. The words freed something deep inside him, something that exploded into a warm feeling that spread through him. "I love you", he breathed and knew he had never spoken truer words.

Viktor’s lips crashed onto his and this time, the kiss was a lot less gentle. Not that either of them minded.

When they resurfaced for air, Viktor casually said, “You know they call you the Hug Monster now?”

“Shut up, no they don’t.”

“Oh believe me, _they do_.”

Yuuri’s cheeks took on a deep shade of red, which was what he was going for, but instead of the usual flustered look, he looked a little sheepish too. There was a mischievous smile on Viktor’s lips that demanded answers. “No one had time to take any pictures, sadly. Not even Phichit. Care to give me some context?”

Yuuri’s blush got worse, and so did Viktor’s teasing smile. “Did you miss me that bad? At first I just thought you had a thing for Yakov.”

“Oh, _Viktor_ , you –”

The rest of his sentence was swallowed by Viktor’s eager mouth.

Hours later, as they were sprawled across Yuuri’s bed this time, Viktor finally dialled Yakov’s number to let him know everything was okay, or so Yuuri guessed when he started hearing Viktor speaking Russian. He smiled against Viktor’s naked chest, resuming his slow caresses on his boyfriend’s abdomen, when he suddenly remembered something.

He snatched Viktor's phone from his coach's fingers without opening his eyes.

“Hey, by the way? _Damn straight_ he’s worth it. Suck it up, Viktor's mine now.”


End file.
